


(No) Guns and Roses

by RainyTea



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Yakuza, Angst with a Happy Ending, First Meetings, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Meet-Cute, Mutual Pining, Victor being extra as usual, Viktuuri Reverse Bang 2018, it's an organized crime au with no violence, really not that much angst though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2019-05-26 13:26:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15001838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainyTea/pseuds/RainyTea
Summary: Victor is a famous botanist exploring Japan and chancing upon a gorgeous barista with amazing ink in a dingy cafe. Yuuri is the bewildered low-level yakuza manning the money-laundering front Victor keeps coming back to.





	(No) Guns and Roses

**Author's Note:**

> For the Viktuuri Reverse Bang 2018!
> 
> Art by the lovely [asideoftrashplease](https://asideoftrashplease.tumblr.com/) can be found [here](https://asideoftrashplease.tumblr.com/post/175111449432/my-first-piece-for-the-reverse-big-bang-this-is) and [here](https://asideoftrashplease.tumblr.com/post/175126473220/my-second-piece-for-the-reverse-big-bang-this-is).
> 
> Beta'ed by the ever-so-sweet [kyaasnow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyaasnow/pseuds/kyaasnow).

 

* * *

 

 

The first time Victor stopped in at the Blue Roses Cafe he swore he'd never go back.

The only reason he went in the first place was because the Starbucks across the street was crowded with tourists; he just wanted a quiet place to review the latest batch of photographs he'd taken before sending them off to his editor. He was supposed to be working on his latest book, a study of the native flora of Japan, but honestly he was feeling so uninspired.

If you'd asked Victor Nikiforov ten years ago what he thought his life would be like now he never would have said "award-winning author, photographer, and botanist." Ten years ago he'd been the darling of the Russian junior figure skating team, poised at the beginning of a career that would make him a legend. But an injury while training ended his dreams of stardom on the ice; instead he turned a childhood fascination with flowers into a PhD in botany, five best-selling books, and numerous awards in the field.

But lately none of it seemed like enough. In his career up until now he'd always been able to surprise people, making new discoveries and publishing books that wowed both the public and his scientific peers. He'd come to Japan in hopes of doing something different, since he'd always focused on European species, but still nothing felt right. He needed a concept, something amazing and new, but nothing was coming to him.

He'd spent the day in a nearby forest taking pictures of wildflowers, and now he was tired and just wanted someplace quiet to sit for a moment. He'd spotted the Blue Roses and thought it didn't look too busy.

That was an understatement. The place was completely deserted, and as soon as he tried the coffee Victor understood why. He'd never known that coffee could be so bitter yet so watery at the same time.

But the barista working the big Italian espresso machine was just so cute, the way he peeked at Victor over the rims of his glasses and bit his lip as he obviously puzzled over the machine. Still, Victor told himself, no matter how adorable the barista was it really wasn't worth going back and having any more of that awful coffee.

The second time Victor stopped in at the Blue Roses Cafe he promised himself it'd be the last time.

He hadn't planned on going there at all, but he needed to send some emails to his publisher and the wifi at the Starbucks wasn't working. The wifi at the Blue Roses, however, was amazingly fast, so fast that Victor could almost forgive how stale the cookie was that he'd bought as a distraction from the terrible coffee. He worried he was going to chip a tooth on it. Dunking it in the coffee helped, except that made the cookie taste like the awful coffee.

But the same barista from before was working there, and the way he blushed as he handed Victor his change made Victor's heart clench in his chest. No one had a right to be that darling when they blushed.

The third time Victor stopped in at the Blue Roses Cafe he realized he wasn't ever going to go anywhere else for coffee.

This time Starbucks wasn't busy, but it was raining out and they wouldn't allow Makkachin to come in with him. Across the street at the Blue Roses the barista (that same one again) just smiled and said “of course!” when Victor asked if he could bring his dog in with him. “Um, the coffee will just be a minute, though,” the man said, tugging at a lever on the antique-looking machine, “this lever seems to be stu–ah! OW!”–this last as the lever came loose and with it a gush of steam and water, soaking the front of the barista's shirt.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” Victor didn't wait for an answer, instead vaulting over the counter, his only thought that he needed to get the boiling-water soaked fabric off before the man could get badly burned. Grasping the front of the shirt he yanked, buttons flying everywhere.

“Wait–it's not that–”

“Oh,” Victor said, realizing that the water soaking the shirt, while hot, wasn't _boiling_ hot. “It's not that hot, is it?”

“Um, no, I turned off the boiler before I started working on it.”

“I'm so sorry about your shirt, please let me pay for…” Victor's words trailed off as he got his first glimpse of what had been covered up by the barista's black button-down shirt. “Oh wow,” Victor said softly, “those are some amazing tattoos.” They really were. Beautiful, swirling designs of stylized peonies decorated the man's chest, and Victor could see the scales of a koi fish where the man's shoulder had been bared by the torn shirt.

“Oh, um, sorry,” the barista said as he stepped back, pulling the remains of his shirt closed.

“Don't worry about it,” Victor said, smiling. “I know you're probably supposed to keep those covered up while you're at work, but I won't tell anyone.” He added a wink for good measure. “Really, it's fine,” he added at the man's startled look. “I won't judge. I dated a tattoo artist once, although I never got any ink done myself.”

“Yeah, well, um…” Whatever the man had been about to say was interrupted when Makkachin put her paws up on the counter and barked at them.

“Makkachin! No! I'm sorry,” Victor said, turning back to the barista. “She's usually better behaved. She just wants attention.”

“It's okay. I love dogs. I have a poodle back home who looks just like her, only much smaller.” He leaned over the counter to scratch Makkachin's ears.

Okay. Cute, exquisitely inked, and loves dogs? Victor wondered if he might be in love. At the very least utterly smitten. “Makka, this is–oh, I don't know your name!” Victor said with a laugh.

The barista looked up at him and smiled. Victor was pretty sure he felt his heart skip a beat or two. “Yuuri,” he said. “My name's Yuuri.”

“Yuuri,” Victor repeated. “It's lovely to meet you. I'm Victor.” He extended his hand, and after a moment's hesitation Yuuri took it. “But please let me buy you a new shirt, it's the least I can do.”

Yuuri blushed then, looking down at where his torn shirt was still hanging open. “Oh! No no no, it's fine! I've got another one upstairs, I'll just go change.” With that he scurried off towards the door at the back of the cafe. And if Victor let his eyes linger a little too long on Yuuri's cute ass, well, it wasn't like there was anyone else in the cafe to judge him.

 

* * *

   
The first time the good-looking foreigner showed up in the cafe, Yuuri panicked. He really wasn't supposed to get any customers. Everyone in the neighborhood knew the business was a front for the yakuza, even the local police who were all on the payroll of the oyabun.

If someone had told Yuuri five years ago that he'd end up as a low-level yakuza member, he would have laughed. Five years ago he'd been living in Hasetsu, helping his parents run the onsen and looking forward to starting university, maybe even studying abroad. But then one day a group of very serious-looking men in suits had shown up at Yu-Topia Katsuki, and Yuuri's father had been forced to admit that he'd taken out a loan to help keep the business afloat a few years back.

So Yuuri found himself recruited into the yakuza as a way of paying off Toshiya's debt. He'd been assigned to enforcement at first but was so bad at it (he really, really did not want to have to hurt anyone) that the oyabun had taken pity on him and stuck him here, in this cafe that was part money-laundering front and part drop-off point for the other parts of the gang's business. And that was fine by him (he was even given the tiny apartment upstairs to live in). All he had to do was accept the packages that showed up at random times and hold them until the correct person came to pick them up. Occasionally a clueless tourist would come in, but most of them would take one look around at the empty tables and the dust in the corners and then scuttle off to the Starbucks across the street.

That is, until the beautiful silver-haired man came in and ordered a coffee.

Even after five years, Yuuri still didn't know how to run the fancy Italian espresso machine. Someone had told him it had been a gift to the oyabun, who didn't like coffee at all, so they'd stuck it here. Yuuri could manage to get a cup of espresso out of it, but it really didn't taste good. He usually just went across the street to Starbucks when he needed a caffeine fix.

But the good-looking foreigner just smiled at him so sweetly when he took the cup from Yuuri and sat down at one of the tables. After he left and Yuuri went to clear the table, he noticed that the cup was still mostly full. Yuuri assumed he wouldn't be back.

So when the good-looking foreigner showed up a second time, Yuuri was surprised. The man ordered another coffee, and one of the cookies from the pastry case that Yuuri suspected were older than he was.

But his eyes were so bright blue and beautiful and Yuuri couldn't help but lean on the counter and watch him as he sat down at a table near the window and opened up his laptop. Even if he did feel bad when the man bit down on the cookie and winced. Yuuri hoped he hadn't broken a tooth.

The third time the good-looking foreigner came into the cafe, Yuuri found himself hoping against his better judgement that the man would keep coming back.

Because the way the man–Victor, now–looked at Yuuri after he'd torn his shirt open in a misguided attempt to help made Yuuri's heart stutter in his chest. He'd never felt quite right about having the yakuza tattoos, although aesthetically they were quite beautiful, because they marked him as a criminal (even if it was a life he hadn't exactly chosen). Most of the time he kept them covered up, as he was supposed to, but the first time he'd gone home for a visit and went to sit in the onsen the looks of fear he'd gotten from the patrons filled him with such shame.

But Victor didn't look at him like that. Yuuri knew it was only because Victor had no idea the significance of the tattoos; if he knew that Yuuri was part of a criminal organization he probably would look at him in fear, too. Still, it was nice to be looked at like that, like he was actually attractive instead of someone to be shunned. As he pulled on a fresh shirt and hurried back downstairs he told himself it would be best if Victor didn't come back. No matter how gorgeous the man was or how sweet he looked when he flirted (and he was definitely flirting, Yuuri may have been oblivious to that sort of thing most of the time but there was no way even he could miss this).

When he came back out, fully covered again, Victor and his adorable dog were still waiting by the counter. “Um, did you still want a coffee?” Yuuri asked. “I think the machine's working again, but it might take a while for the temperature to come back up.”

“Of course!” Victor said. “I don't mind waiting.”

“Would you like something else while you wait? Um, a pastry, or something?”

“Ah, I think I'll pass on that. I'm not very hungry today,” Victor said with an apologetic smile. Not that Yuuri blamed him.

“Um, a glass of water, then?” Yuuri asked.

“Perfect!”

 

* * *

   
After that Victor really did become a regular, both to Yuuri's chagrin and delight. Every day he'd come by, order an espresso that he'd only take one sip of, and work on his laptop while Makkachin dozed at his feet. Every day he'd smile and flirt with Yuuri, and Yuuri, flustered though he was by the attention, would flirt right back. It felt all very lovely and pleasant, almost like the cafe was just a normal coffee shop and Yuuri was just a regular barista.

That illusion was shattered, though, every time one of the oyabun's men came by to drop off a package, or pick one up. Yuuri never knew what was in the packages, whether it was drugs or guns or stolen goods, and he didn't want to know. The first time one of the deliveries happened when Victor was there Yuuri panicked, but Victor didn't seem to think anything was strange about it. Maybe where he was from cafes got deliveries all the time from men in dark suits. (The man with the delivery gave Yuuri a disapproving look, to which Yuuri responded with a _what can I do?_ sort of shrug. Yuuri was concerned he might get a lecture later from his superior about discouraging customers but it never came.)

After a week or so, when it was obvious that Victor would be coming by every day, Yuuri felt bad and started looking up YouTube videos on how to run the fancy Italian machine, and eventually was able to make espresso that was actually drinkable. He also started dropping by Shinigawa's Bakery down the street and picking up fresh pastries every day, using his own money. The look of delight and the “vkusno” from Victor when he took a sip of coffee and a bite of a pastry was worth it all. Yuuri even got a box of dog cookies to keep under the counter for Makkachin.

Despite his misgivings Yuuri found himself really enjoying Victor's company. He was smart, and funny, and easy to talk to, and of course so very easy on the eyes. Still, Yuuri told himself, it couldn't last. Victor would either finish with the work he was doing here, or worse, he'd figure out what the real business of the cafe was. Either way he wouldn't stay, and besides Yuuri had to remind himself not to take Victor's flirting seriously. There was no way he could be seriously flirting with someone like Yuuri, right?

One afternoon Victor brought a small bouquet of peonies with him to the cafe. _“Paeonia lactiflora,”_ he said. “I noticed you had some as part of your tattoos,” he continued when he saw Yuuri's look of confusion, “so I thought you might like these.”  
“Oh! Um, thank you,” Yuuri said. Truth be told, he didn't really feel much one way or the other about peonies, they were just one of the traditional elements in yakuza tattoos. But Victor didn't know that, naturally assuming that if Yuuri had them tattooed on his body he must like the flowers. “That's very kind of you.” Victor smiled happily as Yuuri rummaged under the counter, looking for something he could use as a vase. “You seem to know a lot about flowers,” Yuuri said as he pulled out a dented metal pitcher. It would have to do.

“Hmm? Oh, well, it's what I do,” Victor said. “I'm here doing research for a new book on the flowers of Japan.” He gave a little laugh. “I may have to mention your cafe in the credits, I've done so much of the work here.”

“That–that's really not necessary,” Yuuri said. He really hoped Victor was kidding about that part.

“It's kind of funny, too, that this place is called the Blue Roses, because of course they don't exist in nature.”

“They don't?” Yuuri said, placing the flowers on the back counter and starting to make Victor's espresso.

“Mmm, no,” Victor said, leaning on the counter as he watched Yuuri work. “Roses don't have the gene for it. Other scientists have tried to genetically engineer a blue rose, but it never quite works.” Victor smiled as he took the cup from Yuuri. “Blue roses are said to symbolize longing for something that one can never have, you know.”

“Oh,” was all Yuuri could say as he watched Victor settle in at his usual table by the window. Longing for something that one can never have. That was a feeling Yuuri was getting familiar with lately.

 

* * *

 

Victor stood up and stretched, his back feeling a little stiff after kneeling so long to get pictures of a beautiful example of a _Paris tetraphylla_ that was just in bloom. He glanced over at where Makkachin was sprawled in a patch of sun, lazily watching a butterfly bob through the grass. “What do you think, girl, is it time for a coffee break?” Makkachin scrambled to her feet and woofed; coffee meant Yuuri, and Yuuri meant scritches and treats. Victor packed his camera away, and they headed down towards the main part of town and the Blue Roses cafe.

If asked, Victor would happily admit that his daily visits to the cafe were the highlight of his day. He kept coming back in spite of the bad coffee because any chance to get to know Yuuri was worth it (the fact that the coffee had improved lately was just a bonus). By now Yuuri was comfortable enough to come sit with Victor and chat while Victor worked, and they would talk about dogs and which local restaurants were worth trying and what flowers would be in bloom soon. Yuuri even brought out his phone to show Victor pictures of his dog, a miniature poodle who looked like a mini-Makkachin. “He's with my family, they live a couple of towns over so I go back to visit as often as possible,” Yuuri said.

In turn Victor would show Yuuri the pictures he'd taken that day, explaining what he knew about each of the plants. Yuuri listened raptly, leaning over Victor's shoulder to look at each photograph on the laptop, and every time their shoulders touched or their arms brushed against each other a little tingle would run down Victor's spine.

Besides, the cafe was a great place to work, and he found himself spending several hours a day there. It was much more pleasant than his lonely apartment. The wifi was lightning fast, and Victor didn't mind at all that there never seemed to be any customers. The only time anyone ever came in, in fact, was the occasional deliveries that Yuuri had to deal with (Victor hadn't ever noticed before how formally delivery people dressed in Japan; it must be a cultural thing, he thought.)

He sighed as he opened the door of the cafe, Makkachin bounding in ahead of him. It'd been a good day's work so far, photographing the late-spring flowers in the nearby forest, but still Victor felt there was something missing. Something new and unique he could do with this book, something that would blow everyone away, something that had never been done before. He just needed that one thing, that one bolt of inspiration.

“Oh–oh, sorry!” Victor looked up to see Yuuri drop the broom he was using and grab his shirt off the counter, quickly covering up all that glorious ink. “Sorry,” Yuuri said again, “you're earlier than usual and I didn't mean–” as he hastily buttoned up the shirt. “So, um, your usual?” Yuuri continued before Victor could reassure him that he didn't mind seeing the tattoos. He wondered if it was a cultural thing, that Yuuri was so shy to show them.

He was still thinking about Yuuri's beautifully inked skin as he sat down at the table by the window and uploaded the day's photographs to his laptop. Ever since he'd dated that tattoo artist in New York he'd had a fascination for the art (even though that relationship, like all his relationships, never lasted very long). He didn't know as much about traditional Japanese tattoos, but Yuuri's seemed like such a beautiful example. The delicately shaded chrysanthemums, the graceful shape of the peonies, the plum blossoms that encircled his nipples. He'd really love to see more, to see where else Yuuri was covered in ink, to see what other flowers he might have hidden…

Oh. He had an idea. A beautiful idea.

Victor smiled up at Yuuri as he brought another cup of espresso to Victor's table. “Oh, Yuuri, there's something I'd like to ask you…”

 

* * *

 

“You want me to what?!” Yuuri stared across the table at Victor. When Victor had asked Yuuri to sit down, saying there was something he wanted to ask, Yuuri had thought this was it. Victor had figured out that the cafe was a yakuza front and that Yuuri was a criminal and he was going to leave and Yuuri would never see him again. Instead…

“Come to my apartment for a photography session,” Victor repeated. Yuuri just stared. “For my book. It's perfect! I wanted to do a book on the flowers of Japan, but that's been done before. I want to do something unique.” Victor gave him a brilliant smile. “I'll put pictures of the flowers in your tattoos next to pictures of the actual plants. I mean,” Victor hurriedly added, “it won't just be your tattoos, eventually. But for now I need to put together something to sell my editor and publisher on the idea.”

“Um…”

“If you're worried, I'll make sure your face isn't in the pictures,” Victor said. “All I need are closeups of your tattoos.” He reached across the table and took Yuuri's hand, looking into his eyes with the most earnest expression. “Yuuri, you don't have to do it if you don't want to. I know you're shy about your ink, but you–your tattoos, I mean–are just so beautiful. Please?”

Was this some sort of come-on? Just an excuse to get Yuuri to come back to his apartment? Yuuri's mind was whirling. He should say no. The last thing he needed was someone taking pictures of his tattoos and putting them in a book. The oyabun would be furious, to say the least. He should definitely say no.

“Okay.”

 

* * *

 

Victor paced around the apartment, checking for the fourth or fifth (or sixth?) time that everything was ready. He had his photography equipment set up in the bedroom, since that room had the best light. He hoped Yuuri wouldn't take it the wrong way. (Or maybe he hoped he would.) All Victor had to do now was wait for Yuuri to get there.

He checked the time again. 4:37. Yuuri was supposed to be there at 4:30. No reason to worry, it wasn't like he had to be on time exactly. He'll be here, Victor told himself, no need to be nervous. Maybe he got hung up at the cafe? No, that wasn't right, it was closed on Mondays. Did he change his mind? He had been reluctant at first. Or maybe–

Victor jumped when Makkachin barked at the knock on the door. Victor dashed across the living room and threw the door open, only to have Makkachin shove in front of him and knock Yuuri to the floor. “Oh, no, Makka, down!” Victor grabbed for her collar and tried to pull her off a laughing Yuuri.

“It's okay,” Yuuri grinned as he finally managed to push Makkachin off him, “she's just glad to see me, aren't you girl?” Makkachin woofed in agreement. Yuuri stood up, adjusting his glasses that had been knocked askew. “Hi,” he said. “Sorry I'm a little late.”

Victor could only stare. Yuuri had styled his hair differently, the usual fluffy black strands now slicked back from his forehead, making his beautiful brown eyes stand out even more. This was also the first time Victor had seen him in anything but the black button-down shirt he wore at the cafe; instead, Yuuri was wearing a long-sleeved t-shirt and jeans rolled up above his ankles. He looked good. Really good.

“Um, Victor?”

“Huh? Oh! No, no, no, it's fine, you're not late at all! Please, come in!” Victor pulled the enthusiastically-wiggling Makkachin back inside the apartment and ushered Yuuri inside.

“Wow, this is a really nice place,” Yuuri said, looking around.

“Hmm? Oh, yes, it's such a classic, tiny space. I really wanted the authentic experience of living here, you know?”

“Tiny? Oh, um, okay…”

“Can I get you something to drink? Tea, or wine? I've got a bottle of champagne, too, that I've been saving for a special occasion,” Victor said with a wink.

“N–no, that's okay, I'm fine, I don't need anything.”

“Yuuri,” Victor said, reaching out and cupping Yuuri's cheek in his hand, “you seem nervous. I want you to be comfortable. If you don't want to do this, it's okay.” Yuuri gazed up at him, brown eyes wide and his lips just barely parted. Victor so badly wanted to kiss him.

Just then Makkachin butted her way in between them, breaking the moment. “Ah, Makkachin, we're ignoring you, aren't we!” Victor reached down and scratched her behind the ears. “I've got my equipment set up in the bedroom, no dogs allowed,” he said to Yuuri.

“Okay,” Yuuri said. “Should I–um…”

“Go ahead,” Victor said, gesturing to the bedroom door. “I'll be there in just a moment.” Yuuri nodded and headed for the bedroom, then paused in the doorway.

“Victor?” he said, his eyes soft. “I do. I do want this.” He smiled sweetly and closed the bedroom door behind him.

Victor wondered if his heart was going to pound right out of his chest.

 

* * *

 

A few minutes later, Makkachin happily settled on the couch with her favorite toy, Victor followed Yuuri into the bedroom. And then stopped, utterly stunned.

Yuuri stood in front of the window that faced out onto the little private garden, his back to Victor, golden afternoon sunlight pouring down his body. He'd taken his shirt off, and this was the first time Victor had seen the tattoo work on his back. Peonies, chrysanthemums, and plum blossoms framed a leaping koi; the colors glowed in the warm light. Yuuri glanced over his shoulder as he heard Victor come in. He'd taken off his glasses, and oh god, he was so, so beautiful.

“Victor?” Yuuri said. “Is–is this okay?”

Victor swallowed hard. “Yeah,” he breathed. “You look… wow. Amazing.” He stepped closer, feeling almost tentative, like Yuuri was some fey, magical creature that he was afraid of spooking. His eyes trailed down Yuuri's body, to where the colorful designs disappeared beneath the waistband of his jeans. “Um, how far down do they…”

“To the tops of my thighs,” Yuuri said. “Did you want me to…?”

Victor blinked. Thighs. Yuuri's tattooed thighs. “Yeah. Um, okay, I mean if you don't mind.” Yuuri nodded, turned back towards the window and began to strip out of his jeans and the black boxer briefs he was wearing underneath. Victor stared for a moment, then shook himself. Professional. He needed to be professional about this. “There's a sheet on the bed, there, if you want to cover up a little,” Victor said, amazed that his voice wasn't shaking more. “I'm just going to grab my camera.”

“Okay,” Yuuri said, reaching for the sheet. Victor managed to tear his eyes away and reached for the camera on top of the dresser. “So, um, how do you want me?” Yuuri asked. Victor froze. “I mean to pose! How do you want me to pose!” Yuuri rushed to add.

Turning back to Yuuri, Victor started to say “just whatever feels natural…” and then nearly dropped his camera.

Yuuri stood in profile in front of the window, dressed in nothing but ink and the sheet he was clutching nervously in front of him. He was breathtaking. Stunning. Gorgeous. Jaw-dropping. _Camera-_ dropping. (Victor did manage to catch it in time; after all it was very expensive.)

“That–that's good, just like that,” Victor finally managed to say. He lifted the camera. “Are you ready?” he asked.

“Yeah. It's–yes. Go ahead.” Yuuri said.

For the next several minutes the only sounds in the still air of the room were the click of the camera, and the rustle of the sheet as Yuuri turned this way and that to allow Victor to photograph his body from several angles. Victor started with full-body shots, careful to avoid getting Yuuri's face in the frame, then moved in for close-ups. He tried to ignore the thrum of desire that was building low in his gut. He wanted to reach out, trace the outlines of each flower with the tips of his fingers, with his mouth. Wanted to chase the fall of autumn leaves down Yuuri’s side with his tongue, right down to the scales of the snake that curled around his hip.

After a while Victor paused to check the shots he'd gotten so far, to see if he had enough. As he thumbed through the images Yuuri wrapped the sheet around his waist. “Are they turning out okay?” Yuuri asked.

“Beautiful,” Victor said. “Just gorgeous.” He glanced up at Yuuri. “Do you mind if I get a few more? I, uh, think I'd like to focus on your chest this time.”

“Okay,” Yuuri said. He laughed self-consciously. “It does feel a little weird, though, being the only naked person in the room.”

“Well,” Victor said, setting the camera down for a moment, “I can fix that,” and began to pull his shirt off over his head.

“No no no, I didn't mean–”

Victor paused with his shirt halfway off. “Do you not want me to?” he asked. “I just want you to be comfortable, Yuuri.”

Yuuri laughed again, a nervous little giggle, “Um, it's okay, if you want to.” Victor grinned and pulled his shirt off the rest of the way, then stripped off his pants as well. Yuuri's cheeks were flushed a bright pink, but he wasn't exactly looking away, either.

“Better?” Victor asked. Yuuri made a slightly strangled noise, but nodded. Victor picked up the camera again. “Ready?”

“Yeah,” Yuuri said, his voice husky and soft. Victor moved in closer, adjusting the focus of the camera so he could take close-ups of the designs on Yuuri's chest.

_“Prunus mume,”_ Victor murmured.

“Eh?”

“Plum blossoms,” Victor said. “Really lovely work, the way they highlight your nipples.”

“Victor! How can you–how can you just say that!” Yuuri made a movement as if to cover his face with his hands, but stopped when he remembered he was still holding the sheet in front of himself.

Victor looked up from the viewfinder of the camera. “You have beautiful nipples, Yuuri. They deserve to be highlighted.” It was true, they were perky and cute and Victor really, really wanted to lick them.

Yuuri stared at him, pink lips just barely parted. “Oh my god,” he whispered.

They stood like that for a few moments, staring into each other's eyes, Victor holding the camera and Yuuri clutching the edge of the sheet. “Yuuri–” Victor started.

“Victor–”

“I think I have enough pictures now,” Victor said. Before he could even move to set the camera down Yuuri closed the distance between them, cupping Victor's cheek in one hand, and kissed him.

Victor did drop the camera then.

Yuuri startled at the thump of the camera hitting the floor. “Oh no–”

“Don’t worry about it,” Victor said. “The carpet's soft.” He slid his arms around Yuuri's waist, pulling him closer to kiss him again. He dragged his teeth across Yuuri's lower lip, and Yuuri moaned in response, lips parting as Victor kissed him deeper. Yuuri had both arms around Victor's shoulders now, the sheet and modesty forgotten.

“Victor,” he whispered when they broke apart, breathing hard. “Victor, please…”

“Tell me, Yuuri,” Victor murmured. “Tell me what you want.”

“You,” Yuuri said. “I want you.”

Victor's knees felt weak as Yuuri, eyes smoldering with desire, pushed him back towards the bed.

 

* * *

 

Yuuri rolled over, squinting in the soft morning light that filled the room. Glasses–where did he leave his glasses? They were usually on the bedside table…

Oh. Oh he wasn't in his room above the cafe. He was in Victor's apartment, in Victor's bed and Victor–

Victor wasn't there.

Yuuri slid out of bed, looking around. His clothes and his glasses were still on the chair where he'd left them after getting undressed for the photography session. He put his glasses on so he could see the clock beside the bed. 9:37? Oh crap. He needed to get to the cafe so he could open by 10am.

Yuuri was just scrambling back into his jeans when the bedroom door opened, and Victor walked in, fully dressed and holding a couple of mugs of something steaming. Yuuri paused, one leg in his pants and the other in the air, until Makkachin pushed past Victor and knocked Yuuri to the floor.

“Oh no, Makka, don't!” Victor hurried to set the mugs down and help disentangle Yuuri and the poodle. Yuuri couldn't help but laugh; he must look a sight, sleep-mussed and half-dressed and sprawled on the floor underneath one very fluffy dog. Victor laughed too as he pulled Yuuri to his feet. “She keeps doing that to you,” Victor said with a snort.

“It's her way of showing her love,” Yuuri said, finally managing to get his other leg in his pants.

As Yuuri finished getting dressed Victor picked up one of the mugs. “Tea?” he said. “I'd offer to take you out for coffee but I think my favorite place isn't open right now.”

“Um, yeah, actually I really need to go,” Yuuri said. “I'm supposed to open at 10.”

“You can't slack off? Just for one day?” Victor pouted. Yuuri suppressed a giggle, it looked so ridiculous. “It's not like you have a lot of customers to worry about,” he continued.

Yuuri sighed, looking longingly at the cup of tea, and at Victor who looked unfairly beautiful in the morning light. “Um, yeah, it's but important I'm there on time,” he said. He yawned, then took the mug of tea from Victor and took a swallow; it was too hot and more bitter than he liked but it helped. “But you'll come by later for your usual, right?” Yuuri said.

Victor's pout turned to a gentle smile. “Of course,” he said. Yuuri grinned and handed the mug back, then raised up on his toes to kiss Victor, just a quick peck on the lips, then pressed his forehead to Victor's. “Okay. Really need to go now.” He really did wish he could stay, but if a delivery came in when he wasn't there he'd be in a lot of trouble.

Finally managing to tear himself away, Yuuri headed for the front door.

 

* * *

 

As Victor headed towards the cafe that afternoon he felt like singing. Like dancing. Like jumping as high in the air as he could. He was falling in love, with a beautiful, sweet, gentle, unexpectedly passionate man who, Victor hoped, was falling in love with him, too. The night he'd spent with Yuuri had been incredible. He'd had plenty of lovers over the years, but he'd never felt like this before. He felt light, and free, and truly happy for the first time in a long time.

His thoughts were interrupted a few blocks away from the cafe when his phone rang. He'd sent the pictures and his proposal for the new book off to his editor, Yakov, before he'd left the apartment. Victor was a little surprised to get a response so soon, but maybe the proposal was just that amazing?

“Yakov!” Victor said as he answered. “So, what did you think?”

“Vitya, what the hell do you think you're doing?” Victor was taken aback by Yakov's tone.

“You didn't like it?”

“Why,” Yakov said, and Victor could almost hear him running his hand through his nearly-nonexistent hair, “did you send me pictures of someone's yakuza tattoos?”

“Huh?”

Yakov sighed. “Yakuza, Victor. The Japanese organized crime group?”

“No, no, they're just traditional tattoos–”

“Traditional yakuza tattoos, Vitya. Whoever that man is, he's a criminal.”

“He's not! Yuuri's a barista at a cafe! He is _not_ a criminal, Yakov, that's ridiculous.”

“A cafe. The quiet little cafe you were telling me about?”

“Yes! That's the one. Yuuri's really lovely, Yakov, I think you'd like him–”

“Tell me, Vitya, are there ever any other customers in that cafe?”

“Well, no, not that I've ever seen” Victor said, “but there's a Starbucks across the street so most people go there–”

“And does this cafe that doesn't get much business get a lot of deliveries? From men dressed in suits?”

“Yes, but that's normal, right? They're very formal here in Japan, you know.”

Yakov sighed again. “Vitya, that cafe is a yakuza front. There's never anyone there because all the locals _know_ this, and know better. This barista? He's a criminal. A dangerous man. You shouldn't go back there again.”

“You're wrong, Yakov,” Victor said. “Yuuri isn't like that. I know he isn't. He's–”

“You slept with him, didn't you?”

“Ahh–”

“Vitya, for your own sake just cut ties with him. This won't end well.”

“It's fine, Yakov. Don't worry. I'll talk to Yuuri, okay? I'm sure he'll clear it all up.”

“Just–just be careful, Vitya. Please.” Victor was genuinely surprised at the worry in Yakov's voice.

“It's fine,” he said again. “I'll call you later, Yakov.” He ended the call, and looked down at Makkachin who was patiently sitting at his feet. “Silly Yakov,” he said. “I don't know what he's thinking. Come on Makka, let's go get coffee!”

Makkachin barked happily.

 

* * *

 

A few minutes later Victor was pushing open the door to the Blue Roses Cafe. Yuuri looked up from the counter at him, blushing but also smiling warmly. “Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” Victor said. There was no way, he thought. No way Yakov was right. He leaned on the counter as Yuuri started preparing his espresso. “Yuuri,” he said. He could clear all of this up right now. “I sent those pictures of you off to my editor this morning and–”

Yuuri froze. “You–you did? I thought–I mean I didn't think–you really want to use my pictures for your book?”

“Of course,” Victor said. “But anyway, Yakov–that's my editor–he said something strange.” Victor laughed nervously. “I mean, it's ridiculous, and I told him so, but he said that your tattoos mean that you're–and this is really laughable, I know–they mean that you're part of some sort of criminal organization?”

Yuuri dropped the cup he was holding, ceramic shattering and espresso splattering at his feet. He stared at Victor, his eyes wide. “Victor–” he whispered.

“Yuuri? It's–it's not true, is it? Tell me it's not true.” Victor felt the stirrings of panic. It couldn't be. Not Yuuri. Not sweet, beautiful Yuuri.

“I think you should go,” Yuuri said weakly. “I think… I think we should end this.”

“No!” Victor moved around the end of the counter, grabbed Yuuri by the arm. Yuuri flinched. “No! I'm not going anywhere, Yuuri. Explain this to me. Please!”

“Victor–” Yuuri looked up at him, eyes spilling tears. “I–I can't–”

“Yuuri,” Victor said firmly. “You're not a criminal. You're not a bad person. I know that.”

“I am!” Yuuri sobbed. His knees started to give out and Victor wrapped his arms around him, pulled him close. Yuuri pressed his face into Victor's chest, tears soaking through his shirt. “Victor, please, you shouldn't–you shouldn't be around me.”

“Shhh.” Victor stroked Yuuri's hair. “I'm not going anywhere. Just, talk to me, please? You can trust me, Yuuri. Just tell me the truth.”

 

* * *

 

So Yuuri told him the truth. They sat on the edge of the counter, side by side, and through tears and sniffles Yuuri explained. About his father's debt and getting recruited into the yakuza. About how yes, he was a criminal but he didn't want to be. About how he hadn't been able to handle the more violent parts of the organization so the oyabun had taken pity on him and put him in this job. Victor held him through it all, murmuring soft words of comfort and…

And forgiveness. Yuuri hadn't really expected that. He'd expected Victor to be upset, be angry, but not understanding.

“So I should have never let you keep coming here,” Yuuri said, wiping at his face with a paper napkin that Victor had retrieved for him from the dispenser. “I knew I shouldn't have but…” he sighed, leaning into Victor's shoulder. “I wanted to keep seeing you,” he admitted.

“I'm not going to complain about that,” Victor said.

Yuuri shook his head. “I can't believe that you're okay with all of this,” he said.

Victor turned him so they were facing each other, taking Yuuri firmly by the shoulders. “Yuuri,” he said. “You're a good person. Anyone can see that. Of course I'm going to give you the benefit of the doubt.”

“But–”

“Yuuri,” Victor said, “don't you know? I'm falling in love with you.”

Yuuri forgot how to breathe.

“Yuuri?” Victor said, his expression so heartbreakingly open.

“I–you–you are?” Yuuri took a deep breath. “I think I need to sit down.”

“You are sitting down,” Victor pointed out.

“Oh.”

“Yuuri?”

Yuuri thought about Victor, about his eyes that were so blue and so beautiful, about how funny and smart and kind he was, about how he accepted Yuuri's status as a criminal so readily, about how willing he was to put his heart on the line for Yuuri's sake. His heart was pounding, and he realized it was because he was… happy.

He looked up at Victor and smiled at him through his tears. “Yes,” he said.

“Yes?”

“I mean, me too–I am–falling, I mean,” Yuuri said. Victor's answering smile was bright enough to light up the entire city for a year. “I just–I never thought someone like you would feel that way about someone like me.”

“You mean someone perfect?”

Yuuri couldn't help but laugh. “I'm a heavily-tattooed yakuza criminal. That's a funny definition of perfect.” Yuuri dabbed at his face again with the napkin that was rapidly disintegrating. “I'm going to go wash my face.” He hopped down from the counter. “Um…”

“I can watch the place while you're gone!” Victor said brightly. Yuuri laughed.

“I doubt if anyone will come in. Nobody ever comes in here.”

A few minutes later Yuuri, face clean and feeling better about things than he had in a very long time, came back to find Victor standing vigilantly behind the counter. “Yuuri,” Victor said seriously, “I've been thinking.”

No. Oh no. Yuuri started to panic. He's thought it through, he doesn't want to stay, he's realized this is a bad idea–

Victor grabbed him by the shoulders. “Yuuri, stop it, you're panicking again.” Victor smiled down at him. “It's nothing bad, I promise.”

Yuuri relaxed. “Oh. Okay.”

“You said you have to do this because of your father's debt, right?” Victor asked. Yuuri nodded. “How much of that debt is left?”

“I–I'm not really sure,” Yuuri said. “They just said I had to come work for them until the debt is paid off.”

“Do you think you can ask your boss–what did you call him–the cinnabun?”

Yuuri snorted. “The oyabun. Um, I suppose I can, why?”

Victor grinned widely. “Because I'll pay off the debt for you. Then you can be free!”

“What?! I can't let you do that!” Yuuri shook his head. “It's not your responsibility!”

“Consider it a wedding present,” Victor said.

“Huh? Who's getting married?” Yuuri asked.

“We are!”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Thank you so much to [asideoftrashplease](https://asideoftrashplease.tumblr.com/) for the gorgeous art and the brilliant prompt that inspired this.
> 
> Come say "Hi" to me on [tumblr](https://rainyteawrites.tumblr.com/)!


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